The Hospital
“IT’S a hospital!” exclaimed Wendy.
The two children had left the shopping streets behind, and now found themselves in front of some gates in a fence that ran round a wide field. Beyond the gates was a drive that ran right up to a big building, some distance away across the field. At first they had thought it was another park, but then Wendy had noticed some beds out on the grass, and then she had realized that it was a hospital.
“What a nice one, with all those fields and trees,” said Joan. “Fancy being ill in bed out of doors!”
“You wouldn’t feel ill at all,” said Wendy. “You’d feel as if you were pretending.”
“Well, you might be in bed with a broken leg,” said Joan. “You wouldn’t really be ill, but you’d have to stay in bed. It would be nice to be out of doors then.”
“Oh, look!” cried Wendy, pointing: “there’s a bed coming down the drive all by itself!”
“Someone must be pushing it, silly!” said Joan; but then she laughed, because it really did look as if the bed were coming down the drive by itself. There was a little girl in the bed, and as it drew nearer they could just see the white cap of the nurse who was pushing. The bed ran on wheels, rather like small pram wheels, and came down quite silently and smoothly along the asphalt path.
“There!” said a cheerful voice. “Now I’ll push you on to the grass, and you can see the road and everything. Is that what you wanted?”
“Yes, thank you, nurse,” said rather a tired little voice.
The bed ran on to the glass, and a small woman in nurse’s uniform appeared from behind it. She looked rather hot with pushing, and she sat down for a minute on the edge beside the little girl, to get her breath back.
“Well, you can stay here for a little while, and then it’ll be time to go inside for the night,” she said. “You’ll take your medicine like a good girl when I bring it down to you, won’t you?”
“Ugh!” said the little girl, and turned her face away.
“Well, have you got a book?” asked the nurse.
“No, thank you,” said the little girl.
“I’ll be back for you presently,” said the nurse, and she went back up the drive towards the hospital.
The little girl lay quietly and watched the cars going up and down, an occasional horse and cart among them. Then she saw Wendy and Joan watching her through the gates, and she smiled at them.
“Hullo” she said.
“Hullo!” said Wendy.
“Come in and talk to me,” said the little girl coaxingly, so of course Wendy and Joan went in at once.
“You can sit on my bed if you’re very careful not to make it untidy,” said the girl. “What are your names? Mine’s Mary Ella Morrison, but I’m always called Mops.”
“I’m Wendy and this is Joan,” said Wendy.
“is she your sister?” asked Mops.
“No, she’s my friend. Why are you in hospital?” asked Wendy.
“I’ve had an operation!” said Mops importantly. “What sort of one?” asked Joan with great interest.
“An operation. Don’t you know what an operation is?” asked Mops scornfully.
“There are all sorts of operations,” argued Joan. “You might have had your leg cut off.”
“That wouldn’t be an operation,” said Mops. “An operation is something inside you, and I’ve had it.”
“Well, I hope you’re getting better now,” said Wendy quickly, seeing that Joan was going to argue the point.
“Yes, I am, a bit,” said Mops. “I’d get better much more quickly, though, if they didn’t give me such nasty medicine!”
“I hate medicines, too,” said Wendy sympathetically.
“So do I,” said Joan. “Once when I had a very bad cough, they gave me some horrid medicine. It was awful!”
“I wouldn’t drink it, if I were you,” said Mops. “I’d throw it down the sink!”
“Well, it’s best to take it, really,” said Wendy. “It does make you better.”
“It makes me worse!” said Mops. “Are those your dogs?”
“Yes, that’s Pluto, and the little one’s Jack,” said Wendy. “Jack wants to make friends with Pluto, and Pluto wanted to at first, but now he won’t take any notice of Jack. It makes Jack so sad.”
Indeed, Pluto had begun to sulk about Jack.
“What a shame!” said Mops. She held her hand over the side of the bed. “Jack! Jack! Poor old fellow, then!”
Jack came running up and licked her hand. Then he put his forepaws up on the bed, and tried to lick her face. As he could not reach to do this, he sprang on the bed, amid the squeals and shrieks of the girls, and licked Mops all over the face and hair.
“Go down, Jack! Bad dog! Go down!” screamed Joan.
“You wicked dog! Get off the bed at once!” cried Wendy.
But Mops seemed to be enjoying it, and she laughed, and put her thin little arms round Jack’s neck, and let him lick her face as much as he wanted to.
“I don’t think you ought to do that,” said Joan, looking worried. “Won’t it upset your operation, or something?”
“I’m all right,” said Mops. “He is a darling, isn’t he?”
“Lie down, Jack, there’s a good dog,” said Wendy coaxingly, and Jack curled up on the pillow beside Mops and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He knew a friend when he saw one!
“He’s awfully dusty— look at the marks his paws have made,” said Joan, trying to clean up the sheet. “Whatever will the nurse say?”
“She’ll grumble — or Sister will, anyway — and I’ll pretend to feel awfully ill, and then they won’t grumble any more!” said Mops, with a grin.
“Oh, that’s the way you do it, is it?” laughed Joan.
“Yes, and it works beautifully,” said Mops. “Come here, Jack, and be cuddled! What a darling soft thing he is! Oh, I do wish he was mine!”
“Haven’t you got a dog?” asked Wendy.
“No. I haven’t got a dog, and I haven’t got a cat. I haven’t got anything!” said Mops, looking terribly pathetic.
“What about brothers and sisters?” asked Joan. This time Mops looked genuinely pathetic.
“No, I haven’t any brothers and sisters either, but my Mummy and Daddy are the best in the world,” she said.
“I’m sure they are,” said Wendy quickly. “Wouldn’t you like to have a dog of your own, though? Won’t they buy you one?”
“Oh, they keep on saying they will, but they never do,” said Mops crossly. “They were going to give me one for Christmas, and then they were going to give me one for my birthday, but they said they couldn’t see one that was just right for me. So I suppose I shall go on waiting forever!”
“Oh, you’ll get one some day,” said Joan Consolingly.
“No, I shan’t. Jack is the only dog I’d really like, and he belongs to you,” said Mops with a sigh. Then she smiled wheedlingly. “You wouldn’t give him to me, would you? I’m terribly ill, really! I’ve had a real operation!”
“If your Mummy and Daddy say you can have him, I’ll give him to you,” said Wendy.
Mops bounced in the bed in a way that ought to have been very bad for her if she was as ill as she made out, but it did not seem to do her any harm.
“Will you really?” she squeaked. “Really, really, truly? Mummy and Daddy will be coming to see me soon. Will you stay till they come, and then introduce them to Jack? Will you?”
“All right, but you’d better keep quiet,” said Wendy, quite alarmed at the way the small person was behaving. Then she thought of something. “Now, keep quiet and listen to what I say,” she said in her most grown-up manner. “If you have Jack, I want you to do something for me, too.”
“Anything in the world,” said Mops rapturously. “What is it?”
“Well, keep quiet a minute,” said Wendy. “I can’t talk to you if you bounce about like that.”
“Let me get hold of dear, darling Jack’s collar, and I’ll keep perfectly quiet,” promised Mops.
“Here you are, then. Now listen. Do you go to Sunday school?”
“No,” said Mops wonderingly:
“Or Children’s Service or anything?” continued Wendy.
“No,” said Mops, shaking her head.
“Well, will you ask your Mummy, when you’re better, if you may go?”
“All right,” said Mops rather doubtfully.
“You’ll like it when you get used to it,” said Joan. “Do you say your prayers, Mops?”
“Sometimes,” said Mops. Then she colored and hung her head. “I did ask God to make me better, when I was so awfully ill; but since I’ve been getting better I’ve forgotten my prayers, I’m afraid. But I will remember them, truly I will.”
“Yes, do,” said Joan. “I expect God is awfully disappointed that you haven’t thanked Him for making you better. You will, when you go to sleep to-night, won’t you?”
“Yes, and I’ll thank Him for sending dear, darling Jack to me. I’m sure it was His idea.”
“I’m sure it was, too,” said Joan. “Now, there’s one more thing. I know you can’t go to Sunday school or church while you’re ill in bed, but you could read about Jesus, couldn’t you?”
“In the Bible, do you mean?” asked Mops uneasily. “But it’s awfully difficult to understand. I did have a Bible once — I think it’s still in a cupboard in my nursery — but I never understood it much. My godmother gave it to me. It has such awfully long words in it.”
“Well, parts of it are difficult, I know,” admitted Joan. “But if you belonged to the Bible Fellowship, you’d get little booklets that tell you where to read, and explain it to you, too. We read ours that way, don’t we, Wendy?”
“Yes, and it’s awfully interesting, really,” said Wendy eagerly. “Will you do that?”
“How could I get hold of the booklet things?” asked Mops.
“I’ll give you mine for this month,” said Wendy.
“I’ve got it in my pocket. And you can get your mother to bring your Bible next time she comes. And I’ll arrange for the booklets to be sent to you regularly.”
“All right,” said Mops. She took the booklet that Wendy fished out of her pocket, and looked at it. Then she began to read it. “Why, this is interesting!” she exclaimed.
“Of course it is,” said Wendy.
“Oh Here’s Mummy and Daddy” cried Mops, as a Cor drove into the drive. “Mummy! Mummy I’ve got a dog, and I want my Bible, please. Will you get it for me?”
“What’s all that?” exclaimed her father, getting out of the Cor and accompanying her mother across the grass.
“I’ve got a dog, and I want my Bible, please. And these are my two friends, Wendy and Joan, and this is Jack, my dog. And can I have him, please, please, please?”
“Well, you do seem better!” said her father.
“I’m quite better,” said Mops impatiently. “Can I have Jack? This is Jack.”
Jack opened one eye, looked at the newcomers, and shut it again. Mops put her head down on his back “Mops, darling, he might have fleas!” cried her mother.
“I don’t think he has,” said Wendy. “He doesn’t scratch at all.”
“Is he your dog?” asked the father.
“Well, he’s our adopted dog,” said Wendy. And then she told Mops’s mother the sad story of the man who had been run over, and of how they had rescued Jack — the dog who had lost his master. “This is my real dog,” she added, pointing to Pluto, who was now sleeping peacefully in the sun.
“I’d much rather you had a dog like that, darling, than this little mongrel,” said Mops’s mother.
“I hate big dogs. I hate Pluto. I love Jack,” said Mops, looking mutinous. “And I was feeling much, much better just now, but I’m beginning to feel ill again.”
“All right, darling, you can have him,” said her father hastily. “Just as long as you continue to get better, and take your medicine like a good girl, you shall keep Jack.”
“And when I’m quite better, too, and come home?” asked Mops.
“Yes, he shall be your dog forever and ever,” sighed her mother. “Only hurry up and get well, darling.”
“And you’ll remember to bring my Bible?” asked Mops.
“Well, really, I’m not sure where it is,” said her mother. “What a funny thing for a little girl to ask for!”
“I want to read it, that’s why,” said Mops. “I want to join the Bible Fellowship, like Wendy and Joan. You won’t forget, will you?”
“No, darling, I won’t forget,” said her mother, kissing her.
“Well, I think we ought to be going now,” said Wendy. “Good-bye, Mops. Good-bye, Jack.”
But jack only snuggled down deeper into Mops’s pillow, and did not even open his eyes.
And Mops’s mother said that she would call at the other hospital and tell them about Jack, just in case his master recovered consciousness and began worrying about what had happened to the dog.
And Pluto stopped sulking, as they left Jack behind!